


Bizarre Love Triangle

by notaseason



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Season 1, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, idk I'm early in writing, like immediately after Season 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaseason/pseuds/notaseason
Summary: Life feels strange after you've defeated an otherworldly monster. Like, life before was normal, and then the monster showed up, and that was strange, to say the least. Now the monster is gone but life still feels strange, as if she was thrust into a different reality and yanked back out as soon as she was getting a handle on how the fuck it works and she still hasn't gotten her feet steady in this one again.That reality is over, but its effects linger everywhere, dust particles floating in the air; eventually, slowly, they will settle into her life. Nancy does not like messes, and she does not like waiting.-|-Thematically, I respect the whole winter-fall-summer-spring rebirth thing the Duffer brothers are doing. But practically speaking? 10 months seems like a long time for that Gate to just BE OPEN and the characters to just BE STATIC, especially a certain trio of teenagers with a complicated history and shared trauma...
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> There is a soundtrack for this fic called "the Stoncy mixtape": https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Ps7KnZBQr3a7xR7II2Q8w?si=ssUFZKGmSTued0axmzBMsQ
> 
> The title of the fic is the first song on the playlist (sidenote: cannot BELIEVE there isn't already a stoncy fic named after this song???). Then, every chapter name (excluding the prologue) is a song—either the title or some lyrics from it, but either way it will be on the playlist. Then, after the chapter song, every scene (indicated by the -|- symbol preceding each scene) has a song. THEN, if a scene has a diegetic song or some, they will be very obviously named/quoted in the fic, and they will be on the playlist after the scene song that they appear in. So: title song, chapter song, scene songs, diegetic songs. 
> 
> Make sense?...I hope??? Let me know if it doesn't/ask any questions in the comments. Also feel free to roast me down there for my basic music taste over the course of this entire fic, however many chapters and songs it may end up being.
> 
> Prologue songs: "Bizarre Love Triangle," "Dreams," "This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)," & "Too Much Time On My Hands"

-|-

Life feels strange after you've defeated an otherworldly monster. Like, life before was normal, and then the monster showed up, and that was strange, to say the least. Now the monster is gone but life _still_ feels strange, as if she was thrust into a different reality and yanked back out as soon as she was getting a handle on how the fuck it works and she still hasn't gotten her feet steady in this one again.

Nancy is grateful that's not her reality anymore. Most days she wakes up and, in those moments in between unconsciousness and full awareness, feels almost normal. She thinks that it was all just a dream she had that night, for the first or second or fifteenth time. But then she sees the scar on her hand, smells the gunpowder, feels the heat of the gasoline fire, remembers Barb—

And the feeling of strangeness hits again. 

That reality is over, but its effects linger everywhere, dust particles floating in the air; eventually, slowly, they will settle into her life. Nancy does not like messes, and she does not like waiting.

-|-

Jonathan is so happy to have his brother back, and so happy to forget everything that happened before he came back. His mom is more calm and content compared to when Will was missing (obviously), but also compared to the last several months. Things had been getting better for her—for all of them—since his dad fucked off to the city, but the added stress of both of them working as many hours as possible had ground them down individually and as a family. Ground them down until they were too tired to really take care of each other. But Joyce probably isn't going to let either of them out of her sight for the rest of their lives, so there will be plenty of time for family bonding. 

Maybe he misses the time he spent with Nancy, out shooting and searching. It had felt good to actually be doing something to find Will instead of just waiting around, felt good to defy whatever shady government agency was telling them that Will was—telling them _bullshit_ when he knew Will was still out there.

Thinking about it, he probably interacted with people more during those weird few weeks than the entire rest of his life combined. And yeah, some of that interaction was not friendly, but Steve had apologized, right? Or at least he seemed like he was maybe going to, before—well, it's the thought that counts right? It’s all settled now; Jonathan doesn't think Steve will try to punch him again, at least. Probably. Actually, he probably won't even speak to Jonathan ever again, because why would he? Why would Nancy, even, outside of the cordial, one-sided “my little brother is best friends with yours and I’m just picking him up from your house but also I have a crush on you that you probably know about” relationship they had before?

Before. Everything will go back to how it was before. Nancy and Steve will be in their popular bubble as two pretty halves of the perfect couple, and Jonathan will be in his darkroom with his camera and pictures of things he doesn't know. He’s happy to forget about everything else because he has his brother back. So, even if it still feels like someone in his life is missing...he's fine.

-|-

To be honest, Steve still doesn't really know what the fuck all of that was. He had been having a real coming-of-age moment, a Roman building or whatever—it had felt significant. There he was, looking at himself from the outside and asking himself some Big Questions: What am I doing? Why am I doing this? Who am I? Who do I _want_ to be? And he had decided then and there that all of this petty high school drama—everything he dedicated his time and energy and attention to—was bullshit. It didn't matter that Jonathan Byers was weird and that Nancy Wheeler was a slut, because they _weren’t_. It really was bullshit, and Steve would know, because he was the one that started it all. And for what? Nothing. He was done with it all, and he was done with himself.

So he shared his revelation with an incredulous Tommy and Carol and promptly ditched them, and each step had felt like walking into something new—and then he walked into the Byers’ house as occupied by a giant _thing_ , and that _really_ was new and made the drama _really_ seem like bullshit. 

Somehow in the chaos of fighting and flashing lights and fire and Jonathan and Nancy, they all made it out alive, which was more than Steve was really expecting when he was swinging a fucking _baseball bat_ at a fucking **_monster_ ** _._ Guess high school sports are good for more than getting girls and college scholarships. 

Now Steve is hanging in kind of a limbo: no more Tommy and Carol, but he has Nancy; no more parties at his house, just date nights watching movies; no more monster, but still questions about it he isn't sure how to ask, isn't sure he even wants answers to; not who he was before, and still not really sure who he's going to be. 

And he never actually apologized to Jonathan, but Steve bought him a camera to replace the one he broke. That makes them good, right? 

For some reason, that doesn't _feel_ right. Maybe being a good person after years of being an asshole takes some work.

Shit _._


	2. Monday morning couldn't guarantee...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy is already awake when her alarm clock finally goes off. She lets the song play as she stares at the ceiling. 
> 
> First day back to real life, she thinks. Winter break had been a welcome reprieve from physics-defying monsters, shady government agents, violence, relationship drama...guilt. First “first day of school” without Barb. 
> 
> She slams her hand on top of the alarm clock and gets out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...When I tagged this "Slow Burn" I didn't mean because it would take me so long to post another chapter ashdfheugh but a lot has happened in the world since then! This chapter was originally part of a bigger chapter, but I actually have both more work and more school now than before the pandemic/quarantine, and I want to post SOMETHING to satisfy my creative itch that I don't have much time for right now, so. Here you go, the real start of this stoncy story!
> 
> Here's the link to the soundtrack/playlist again: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Ps7KnZBQr3a7xR7II2Q8w?si=IgvJ3YtFRWW-X8mJ7FF2Cg  
> Remember the order is the chapter song, then the first scene's song (each scene indicated by -|- in the fic), then diagetic song(s) within that scene, then repeat for new scenes. Still don't know if I am explaining that the best I can but drop me a comment if you need any clarification/want to roast my music taste. The last chapter ended with "Too Much Time On My Hands" by Styx, so this chapter starts with "Monday, Monday" by The Mamas & The Papas on the playlist.

-|-

“Will, are you ready?” Jonathan calls over the radio from his daily position at the stove.

“Um, yeah, one second!” comes his brother’s voice from the bathroom down the hall.

“I don't know about this,” says Joyce, nervous energy translating into jerky peanut butter and jelly spreading as she makes all three of their lunches at the counter next to Jonathan.

“Mom, it'll be fine. Someone will be with him the entire day,” he tries to reassure her, and tries to make it sound like he's not also reassuring himself.

Joyce nods absentmindedly, eyes focused on the hallway. One of her hands attempts to put a sandwich into the brown bag in her other hand a few times before she turns back to them. She huffs quietly in frustration, movements becoming slightly more exaggerated as she stuffs identical lunches—except for oreos for Will—into three bags and rolls them up.

He waits for her to say more because he knows she will—

“Do _not_ leave until you see him walk in with his friends.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Don't just wait until his friends get to the school, make sure you see them all walk in together.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“And make sure you’re there to pick him up on time, don't hang around in the darkroom at school, you know how you lose track of time in there-”

“Mom!” He turns away from the egg sandwiches sizzling in the sudden silence. Waits a few seconds for her to turn back from the hallway again and meet his eyes. “ _I know_.”

About how she feels right now, about what she's remembering, what she's imagining—he knows. He sees it all reflected in her. She must see it reflected in him too because she sighs and closes her eyes, rubbing at them as if to make the thoughts disappear. When her eyes open, they hold the general worried weariness all mothers seem to have instead of the deep fear specific to those who have something to truly worry about. 

“You're right, honey, he'll be okay,” she says with a small, cautious smile. He gives her a smile of his own, hoping it’s more relaxed than hers. “Those sandwiches won’t be, though.”

He barely bites back a curse as he moves to salvage their breakfast, finally registering the smell of cheese spilling over the bread and burning onto the pan.

“Okay, I’m ready,” comes Will’s voice behind him. Jonathan turns around with the extra crispy sandwiches wrapped in napkins as Will steps into the kitchen with a tentative smile on his face and a hat on his head. He has somehow managed to fit his backpack over his giant puffy parka. _He looks like Ralphie in_ A Christmas Story, Jonathan thinks fondly, remembering how the first time Will had smiled since he...got back was in the theater with him and Mom. Jonathan hands Will his sandwich and uses his now-free hand to grab his own backpack and jacket.

“Does this have cheddar on it?”

“Yeah, and bacon.”

“Awesome! Thanks Jonathan!” Will exclaims, smile growing to a more genuine size. 

Jonathan smiles back just as big and claps a hand on his shoulder, then turns expectantly to their mom. Joyce is looking at them like they're both going off to their first year of college across the country, not to their first day of the second semester of school across town. She kneels down in front of Will, opens her mouth, closes it, tugs the zipper of his parka all the way up to his chin, takes a deep breath, puts her hands on his shoulders with one on top of Jonathan’s hand, and opens her mouth again.

“Someone will be with you all day.”

“I know, Mom.”

“And if you don't want to be there anymore—for _any_ reason—call the store and I'll come get you.”

“Okay, Mom.” 

“And if anyone tries to ask you anything, or _do_ anything—”

“Mom!” Will interrupts her with the smile that both Byers boys developed early: exasperated, annoyed, fond, understanding. “I love you, too.”

Joyce presses her lips together and nods. She moves her hands from Will’s shoulders to his cheeks and pulls his head down to kiss his forehead once, twice. 

“I love you, so so much. I love you _both_ more than anything,” she says, looking up between Will and Jonathan. She stands up to pull them into a hug they both return, arms all wrapped around each other. 

“...Mom…we're going to be late,” Jonathan reluctantly informs her, fighting the part of himself that wants to freeze time right here forever. He is ignoring the part of himself that feels like his house is more empty than it is; they haven’t even left yet. 

“Okay, okay, go on,” she acquiesces, voice thick but tone light. One last squeeze and she releases them. Jonathan conceals the slightly shaky breath he takes by loudly patting his keys in his pocket, then heads to the door with Will trailing a step behind him. 

“Don't forget—”

“I know!”

“—your lunches?” 

Jonathan freezes, then turns around to grab the two bags she is holding, meeting her raised eyebrow with a sheepish smile. 

“‘I know,’ huh.” 

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Go to school and learn something, maybe then you'll know!” she calls out to their backs before the door closes behind them.

“Pick any tape you want,” Jonathan says once they race into the car, focusing on heating them and the car up so they can all function in the Indiana winter.

“Really?” Will asks with wide eyes.

“Yeah. First day back, need something to psych us up for all that homework again.”

Will grins and digs through the glovebox, seemingly knowing exactly which tape he wants. He finds it and exchanges it for the one already in the tape deck. He presses play:

_“Guess who just got back today?_

_Them wild-eyed boys that had been away_

_Haven’t changed, haven’t much to say_

_But man I still think them cats are great…”_

“Good choice,” Jonathan says, smiling at his brother as he puts the car in drive. _Time to go back._

-|-

_“Sweet dreams are made of this_

_Who am I to disagree?_

_I travel the world and the seven seas_

_Everybody’s looking for something…”_

Nancy is already awake when her alarm clock finally goes off. She lets the song play as she stares at the ceiling. 

_First day back to real life_ , she thinks. Winter break had been a welcome reprieve from physics-defying monsters, shady government agents , violence, relationship drama...guilt. _First “first day of school” without Barb._

She slams her hand on top of the alarm clock and gets out of bed.

After going through her usual morning routine, Nancy double checks her new backpack on the way down the stairs: planner, notebooks for every class (color coded), her thoroughly notated copy of _Moby Dick_ for Advanced Placement English, calculator, pens and pencils and highlighters, water bottle—standard stuff for a high school student. Then she checks for the new additions: antiseptic, needle and thread, bandages, athletic tape. _Gun,_ she thinks as she falters on the landing, then shakes her head. She knows the bullets are in her locked jewelry box and the key is hidden in her underwear drawer with the revolver, and she knows her mom never looks in there because she’s never been yelled at for having “risque” bras and panties. _Because underwear is fine, but put some colored lace on it and suddenly you're endangering your virtue,_ Nancy thinks with a roll of her eyes, proceeding down the stairs. _Not that Mom has to worry about that anymore._

“You ready, hon?” her mom asks as Nancy strolls into the kitchen. Holly is still mostly asleep in her arms. Mike startles from spacing out when their mom speaks. He’s ostensibly eating breakfast, but Nancy can tell that he’s mostly mashing his food into smaller pieces to make it look like he ate it. She knows he’s looking for any excuse to leave without getting yelled at for not finishing his food: “It’s a big day, you need a big breakfast!” or something like that. 

“Steve is picking me up,” she tells her mom, grabbing a pancake from the stack on the table and her lunch—made by her last night—from the fridge.

“Oh...okay.” 

She seems caught off guard. Nancy can't imagine why; Steve had picked her up and dropped her off basically every day during winter break when they weren’t just hanging out at her house.

_“Don't you have family obligations? For Christmas?” Nancy asked the first time he picked her up after—after the semester ended._

_He looked at her for a moment, eyebrows raised and a slight smile. “First of all: hi. Second,” he shrugged, “I’ll see them on the big day.”_

He came to her house Christmas afternoon and spent the evening with her and her family.

“Well, what about you Mike? Are you ready to go?” Mom turns to the kitchen table, smile back on her face.

“I'm biking over to meet The Party before school,” he replies, already half off of his chair, sensing an opportunity approaching.

Their mom looks between the two of them for a moment, silent. “I guess you two are growing up faster than I thought.”

Nancy studies her carefully, trying to decipher if that was a dig aimed at her and her...adult activities. She and her mom had fought about it, that first time while everything else was happening and then again afterward. The second time was more quiet, her mom actually listening to her as Nancy laid out her argument: she had been sober, she had consented to everything, and, most importantly, she had _wanted_ to have sex _with Steve_ . Nancy hadn’t told her mom the whole truth; she left out the one beer because it hadn’t affected her—and was therefore irrelevant to the point Nancy was making—and...well, no point in telling her mom that she does regret it if Nancy can’t actually tell her mom _why_. 

Her mom looked upset after, but also resigned.

_“...Did you use a condom?”_

_“Mom! I’m not stupid!” Nancy was more surprised than offended, never having thought of her mom in this kind of context before._

_“I know you’re not. But you need to be safe, too,” Her mom said, looking sternly at Nancy. “If you need any more, or need birth control, or..._ anything else _...will you come to me?”_

_Before that moment, Nancy never imagined talking to her mom about sex in any regard. But with her mom looking straight into her eyes, Nancy remembered that her mom had_ been _her: teenage girl going with an older guy because he was the most exciting thing in her little suburban world._ Look how that turned out, _Nancy thought._

_“Yes, Mom. I will.”_

_Her mom nodded, then swiftly reached out and pulled Nancy into a crushing hug. Nancy brought her arms up hesitantly before hugging her mom back just as hard, blinking fast._

_“Okay. Good.” Her mom’s voice sounded thick. “Holly doesn’t need a niece the same age as her. That might be weird.”_

_Nancy laughed._

Her mom looks resigned again now, but more unsure than upset; trying to adjust to a new reality. Nancy knows how that is.

A honk from outside breaks the stillness in the kitchen. Mike takes his chance, running out to his bike in the garage as Nancy walks out the front door to Steve’s car.

“Love you!” Their mom calls to both of them.

“Love you!” They respond simultaneously. Nancy doesn’t turn around. She doubts Mike does either.

Nancy sees Steve grinning through his car window. She wills a smile onto her face, takes a deep breath of the sharp winter air through her nose, and opens the door.

-|-

  
  


“Happy first day,” Steve chirps as Nancy slides into the passenger seat. Nancy smiles with her lips pursed but doesn’t look at Steve. 

“Hey...you okay?” he asks her.

“Yeah, just...y’know, bummed about going back to school,” she says lightly, finally meeting his eyes for a brief second before looking back out the windshield.

Steve considers her, her tense shoulders and the way she doesn’t seem to notice the cold. Nancy likes school. She is _good_ at school in a way that he knows she works hard at, but also knows that he could never pull off, no matter how many flashcards he makes. Nancy just decides something and then does it. It’s one of the reasons he lo—likes her so much.

But they of all people _do_ have more reasons for first day nerves than most. Steve is assuming that Tommy and Carol have already spread the news: King Steve is dead, and his girlfriend and _Jonathan Byers_ were the ones that killed him. And with Barb...gone, it’s just going to be rumors and him and Nancy. 

_And Jonathan_ , Steve thinks. He knows that that’s really the meatiest piece of the gossip pie: weirdo-nerd-loser-creep Jonathan Byers, who’s never lifted anything heavier than a camera, kicked Top Jock Steve Harrington’s ass, then rode off into the forest with his girlfriend. Which is all technically true, but is also totally not what it sounds like. Except the Jonathan kicking his ass part, that’s true. Steve is willing to admit that, but he’s also not going to advertise it; after the freaky monster-demon-whatever-thing, he’s had enough fighting for a while—maybe even for the rest of high school, if he’s lucky.

The pulsing, synthetic beat of “Blue Monday” starting on the radio bounces Steve out of his head. He focuses on the Nancy right in front of him, who isn’t a slut, or a cheater, or whatever else anyone is going to say, but does look unsteady in the face of returning somewhere old as a new person. Her eyes snap back to Steve when he reaches his hand out to touch hers on the middle compartment. He gives her a small smile, like _hey, I get it,_ because he _does_ get it _,_ and drops it.

“You got everything?”

“Yes, Steve, I’m fine.” 

Nancy’s voice is clipped and her beautiful face is tense, so he squeezes her hand firmly and asks lightheartedly, “Even your whale book that weighs more than a brick? I'm surprised you can carry that thing around all day, let alone _read_ it.”

Nancy scoffs, jaw loosening, and says, “It’s not that bad. It’s actually really interesting, thematically.”

“Whoa, you guys talk about _themes_ in your class? I knew AP is advanced, but damn!”

Nancy’s mouth is tense again, but this time the sides are quirked up, suppressing a smile. “Ms. Freeman is just a very dedicated teacher. She wants all of us to succeed...which I guess means reading a thousand-page sailing instruction manual.”

“Ha! Knew it was boring,” Steve says triumphantly with a grin. “Well, at least your English teacher actually has a degree. I’m pretty sure Mr. Grayson can’t read, and that’s why he makes us read the books out loud in class.” 

Nancy finally laughs, rolling her eyes—“ _You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington”—_ as she finally intertwines his hand with her small, strong one.

_Yeah, I am,_ he thinks as he pulls away from the curb, smile stuck on his face. _I hope that’s cool with you._

-|-

As soon as she and Steve walk into Hawkins High, Nancy spots Tommy and Carol just to the side of the entryway. At a glance they are leaning against the wall facing each other, flirting like any high school couple in love. But when Nancy and Steve come through the doors a few steps apart from one another, they shift so that they are barely touching the wall, heads tilted only enough to be able to look at Nancy and Steve out of the corners of their eyes.

_This is the first test,_ Nancy realizes. They are waiting to see if Steve and Nancy are broken up, if Nancy ditched Steve for Jonathan, if Nancy came pathetically crawling back to Steve—no matter what Nancy says, she knows they’ll find a way to spin it to the entire school by lunchtime. She looks over at Steve, who has noticed his two ex-best friends looking at them with contempt and anticipation. His mouth twists before he looks down at Nancy with raised eyebrows: _What do you want to do?_ Leaving it all up to her.

Nancy thinks of when they first started dating, what feels like another lifetime but was only a couple of months ago. It had been nerve wracking and awkward and thrilling. She had normal problems to deal with then, grades and a crush and parties, and they all made her feel like she was finally getting the real teenage high school experience. Everything seemingly came together, however briefly. She was happy.

They can’t go back to being a typical high school couple, not after all the shit they went through. But don’t Steve and her deserve to only have normal problems like everyone else? _Because_ of all the shit they went through? 

So Nancy squares her shoulders towards Steve, grabs both sides of his face, and drags him down into a kiss as dirty as she can get away with on school property. Steve almost stumbles into her, but manages to get his feet underneath him and his hands on her waist before following her lead. _Let’s give them something to talk about._

A whistle cuts through her self-satisfaction and breaks them apart. Nancy pulls away to see Steve looking at her, surprised but not at all displeased. She’s confused, not by Steve’s reaction, but by Tommy’s or Carol’s. 

“Do you people out here start every day like that? Cuz I might not be so bummed about moving to this shithole if you do.”

It wasn’t Tommy or Carol that whistled, Nancy realizes. She takes a step away from Steve as they both turn to look behind them. Walking through the front doors is a boy she’s never seen in Hawkins before, freshly tan skin and blonde mullet and sherpa jean jacket that is entirely unsuited for winter all denoting his status as the new kid.

“Only the sluts,” Carol responds to him, though more absentmindedly than maliciously. Nancy sees her checking him out; Tommy is doing the same with less appreciation, though only slightly.

Fighting both her curiosity about the new guy and the urge to confront Carol and Tommy once and for all, Nancy utilizes the distraction to grab Steve’s hand and walk away with him in tow. Steve turns at her direction and takes a few large steps to catch up to her. Neither of them look back, but out of the corner of her eye she can see Steve grinning, and feels a smile slide onto her face as well.

The bell rings just as they make it to the hallway of her first class. 

“See you at lunch?” Steve asks, hesitating for some reason.

She leans up to give him another kiss, this one chaste and brief.

“See you at lunch,” she says, smiling again. Steve returns it with an even bigger smile before turning to head to his own class. As he walks away, the high Nancy is riding starts to fade. She shakes her head and steps into class, determined to make it through the day. _At least I can sit next to Jonathan in biology_.

When lunch time rolls around, Nancy meets Steve outside the cafeteria. Nancy looks inside at everyone sitting together in their established groups at their claimed tables, considering where to go. The table where Steve used to sit is still occupied by Tommy and Carol, but in Steve’s place is the new kid, being bombarded by their attempts at charm on either side, along with the barrage coming from the random popular kids sitting across from him. She and Steve exchange a look at the desperate sight. The table where Nancy used to sit with Barb has apparently been taken over by people Nancy doesn’t think she’s talked to since elementary school, back when there were no groups and everyone talked to everyone. She quickly directs her attention away before she can remember any past lunches. There is one person Nancy does want to sit with— _besides Steve, obviously_ —but she doesn’t see—

“You’re looking for Byers.”

Nancy startles, looking from the cafeteria to Steve and wondering how he knows. 

“I mean...is there anywhere else for us to sit?” she reasons, trying to seem like she is only considering it as a last resort in the face of their new status as social outcasts. She doesn't point out that they could just sit with each other like most couples do.

“Well, if he’s not in the _cafeteria_ during _lunch_ , where else would he be?” Steve asks. He’s not arguing, she realizes, but genuinely asking, reasoning out the problem with her like one of their study sessions. _One where we actually study, at least._

Nancy hesitates, then says, “There’s really only one other place he could be.”

Realization smooths over Steve’s face. “Oh, _duh._ Alright. Lead the way.”

Nancy allows her smile to grow and weaves her arm into Steve’s as they turn away from the cafeteria.

-|-

Jonathan hangs another photograph up on the line, inspecting it as he does so to ensure it’s developing correctly. He took a lot of photos over winter break with his new camera—mostly of his family during Hanukkah and Christmas and New Year’s—and wants to get them processed so his mom can put them in the family scrapbook like she does at the beginning of every year. This photo is of Will opening up what he immediately declared to be his favorite gift of the holidays: an action figure of Luke Skywalker from _Return of the Jedi._ Of course, that was before he opened his Atari three weeks later and declared _that_ as his favorite gift, but Jonathan knows Will carries Luke with him in his jacket pocket everywhere he goes.

Suddenly, the door swings open, interrupting his tranquility and flooding every inch of the room with light.

“H-Hey!” Jonathan calls out, snatching his jacket from a chair and holding it up in front of the photos to try and shield them from the light. “Close the damn door!”

“Sorry,” comes a voice, melodic and warm. Jonathan’s breath catches, and he turns around.

“...Nancy?” It really is her, back where he never thought she’d be again: with him in the darkroom. The hallway is behind her, blinding him and highlighting the warm tones of her hair. The rays coming through the rich brown strands frame her face in a halo, but even that doesn’t compare to the brightness of her smile. Jonathan finds her eyes in the dark, already looking at him. A single thought manifests in his otherwise blank brain: _This would be a good photo._ He doesn't move to grab his camera, fully transfixed by Nancy Wheeler.

“...And Steve.”

The door slams shut.

Jonathan startles, tearing his gaze away from Nancy to see Steve standing behind and to the side of her, right in front of the door. His head is slightly ducked; when Jonathan meets his eyes, he raises his hand from rubbing the back of his neck into a twitchy wave. “Hi.”

Jonathan’s shock morphs into even more shock before giving way to total confusion. “Um, what—what are you—you guys—uh...doing here?”

“Didn't see you in the cafeteria,” Nancy answers, like it explains everything.

“Okay?” _Obviously not, I haven’t eaten in there since the first month of freshman year._ “But why are you _here_?”

“We blew everyone else off,” sighs Steve, as if the mere thought of being around ‘everyone else’ was boring him. He is not turned towards the conversation, looking around the room instead. _He’s probably never been in here_. “Nobody cool enough for us out there.”

The statement causes Jonathan to blush, and the statement and the blush both confuse him even more. Clearly he is missing something, but he doesn't think asking the same question a third time will help him, so he goes off of what he knows.

“Well, I don't think you're gonna find anyone cool in here.”

“We already did,” states Nancy. She pulls a chair closer to where they are all standing and sits down. 

Her behavior is so bizarre it distracts him from the ridiculousness of her statement; by the time it registers, he doesn't have time to formulate a counter argument—which he shouldn't have to because, as they all know, within the high school hierarchy Jonathan is not as cool as either of them—not that that matters to him—

“Did you take all of these?”

Jonathan is jolted out of his social paralysis by Steve, who has gone from inspecting the room to inspecting Jonathan’s photographs. Jonathan looks back at Nancy, questioning without knowing what he's actually asking, but she just blinks at him with her big blue eyes as she takes a bite of her sandwich. 

Jonathan redirects his attention to Steve. “Uh...yeah. With my new camera.”

Steve nods, glancing at Jonathan’s camera sitting on the table near him before quickly looking back up at the photos. Jonathan instinctively steps toward Steve to place himself between the other boy and his camera. _Wait, shit, I don't want him to think that I think that he’s going to do anything_ . Steve may have never formally apologized for smashing Jonathan’s camera, but he did help Jonathan fight a monster, so that probably means he deserves the benefit of the doubt here. Jonathan takes a half step back toward where he was. _Still, I don't actually know why they're in here with me._ Jonathan shifts his weight from his back foot to his front. _But Nancy’s here, and I trust her, and she trusts Steve…so it's fine, Steve’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine_ _—_

“Is this a bird’s nest?”

Steve’s question rescues Jonathan from his two-step of uncertainty. “Uh—yeah, out in the woods. I found it over break. Obviously the birds were already gone, but...” Jonathan trails off, not sure how to articulate why he took the photo _. That's why I take photographs, because they’re impossible to put into words. Also, Steve didn't even ask, why am I still talking._

“They’ll be back in the spring.”

“What? How do you know?” Jonathan asks, bewildered by the surety of Steve’s tone.

“They come back every year, the same birds to the same nest. A family of hummingbirds.”

Steve turns his head to look at Jonathan, the same focus in his eyes now as when he was looking at the photograph. Jonathan’s face warms when he realizes that he has been staring at Steve for this entire exchange. He forces himself to maintain eye contact to keep Steve from noticing his blushing cheeks.

“This nest is by my house.”

Jonathan’s face feels like it’s on fire. _He’s definitely gonna notice now._

“O-Oh! I didn't even realize I was over by you—your house.”

Jonathan can't handle it anymore and breaks eye contact, looks at his camera next to him on the table. He tries to will Steve not to think about the last time Jonathan was out in the woods by Steve’s house with a camera. When a few moments pass—or years, Jonathan can't really tell right now—and Steve doesn't respond, Jonathan glances back up, head ducked. Steve is still looking at Jonathan, something besides focus in his expression now, almost questioning. He opens his mouth and Jonathan tenses, preparing for a rehash of events, another fight—

“How do you know it's the same nest?”

_Thank god for Nancy Wheeler._

Both boys direct their attention away from each other to Nancy, who has finished her sandwich and come to stand between the two of them. Her eyes are flitting around the photo, analyzing it like it's a crime scene. It’s the same intense look of focus she had so often during...last fall.

“See these grooves in the trunk? It's the top of a carving I did when I was nine and really into climbing trees.”

Jonathan looks from Nancy’s squinting eyes to Steve’s face leaning down next to hers to Steve’s arm to his finger hovering in front of the photograph, enough distance between the tip of his finger and the still-developing film that Jonathan doesn't instinctively grab his hand and shove it away. And there, in the bottom left corner of the photo, underneath the branch the nest rests on, are the out-of-focus tops of “SH” embedded in the trunk. 

“How did I not notice that?” Jonathan mumbles. _Seriously,_ how _did I not notice that?_

“Did you climb a tree to get this shot? It's kind of high up,” Steve asks. 

Steve and Nancy are both looking at him now, like they actually care about Jonathan’s photography and process. _That's what every artist dreams about, right? People caring?_ The attention makes Jonathan feel uncomfortable—basically the same way he’s been feeling since Nancy and Steve walked in. But he’s gradually acclimating to them, and nothing bad has happened yet, so he only hesitates a fraction of a second this time before responding.

“Yeah. A few, actually. I had to find one that had a branch at the right height and the right angle, and that I could actually, yknow, climb. Took me like five trees until I found the right one.” _This is going pretty well, they still look interested!_ “I actually kind of fell coming down from one and scraped up the side of my hand on the roots—”

Nancy and Steve’s expressions shift from curiosity to alarm and the rest of whatever Jonathan was about to say dies in his throat. _Wrong, wrong, what did I do._

Nancy gently grabs both of his hands in her own, freezing him in place before he can move away. She inspects them individually, turning over his right hand, then his left, finally spotting the scrapes on the outside of his palm. Jonathan is looking at their hands too, comparing it to the last time their hands touched. He was injured then too, but so was Nancy. Her hands are still as cold as he remembers. It feels good against his skin, heated all over by...well, everything that’s happening.

“Are you okay?” she asks, eyebrows pinched, voice strained like he just told her that he fell off of a cliff onto a frozen lake instead of from a tree a few feet off of the snowy ground. 

_Oh. She’s worried, not weirded out._

“...Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn't that high up,” Jonathan breathes out, trying to sound unaffected. Like he hadn't stuffed snow against his hand to numb the sting and instead gotten freezing water down his sleeve. Like he hadn’t just been on the edge of panic from sticking his foot in his mouth. “I was really just protecting my camera. I'd rather I get hurt than my camera.”

_What about Steve, though, he’s definitely weirded out_ _—_

“Hey, all part of the grand sport of tree climbing,” Steve chimes over Nancy’s head. “Luckily it doesn't look too bad.”

He gives Jonathan his Classic Steve Harrington Smile, the one that charms teachers into accepting late assignments and girls into going out past curfew. Every time he’s seen Steve smile like that at someone else, Jonathan has thought that Steve is completely full of himself and didn’t understand how he seems to be the only person to see through it. Now, with Steve smiling at _him_ _—_ head tilted to one side, tips of his hair brushing against his forehead, eyes wide and direct, mouth quirked like he can’t help but smile while looking—Jonathan...gets it. He doesn’t _like_ it, but he can see why other people would, maybe. _It’s probably not even the smile, it's just that he's never smiled at me._ Not that Jonathan cares about that. It’s just nicer than the snarl Steve has had during all of their previous interactions. Obviously.

A wet coldness washes over his scrapes, snapping Jonathan out of his daze. Apparently, Nancy had let go of Jonathan’s hands to procure a First Aid kit bigger than the school nurse’s from her backpack and started cleaning Jonathan’s cuts. Jonathan hadn’t noticed because he was occupied by Steve—by trying to come up with a response to Steve. 

Nancy’s second pass of the antiseptic wipe pushes into his skin more than the first, and an involuntary “Ow!” escapes him before he can catch it. Nancy pauses long enough to shoot him an apologetic look and brushes a finger over the scar on his palm a few times, then goes back to work. It feels nice. Not the stinging, but someone taking care of him, someone he cares about...it’s nice. Whenever his mom or Will tries to do something like this, Jonathan always brushes them off, not wanting to make more work or worry for them. He knows if he tried to brush Nancy off that she would insist. And Jonathan knows he cannot say no to Nancy Wheeler.

When Nancy is satisfied with her work, she tosses the now-dry wipe on top of her backpack. She looks around the space near them for a second; Steve holds up a roll of cotton bandages in her line of sight, and Nancy takes them with an appreciative smile. Jonathan looks between the two of them as they hold each other’s gaze; he is suddenly aware of how comfortable they are around each other. They haven’t done anything very couple-y, thank God—Jonathan doesn’t know if he could handle that right now on top of all of the weirdness that is already happening. But the way they move in sync, how they seem to be on the same mental wavelength...that was real. It was evident as soon as they walked into the room together.

The small flutter of hope that settled deep in Jonathan’s chest a few weeks ago when Nancy gave him the camera now dissipates, taking with it the idea that Nancy would realize that Jonathan is better suited for her than Steve. Jonathan didn’t actually think that Nancy felt that way— _Jonathan_ didn’t even feel like that anymore after watching them actually be together. But they had been good together, Nancy and Jonathan, at least for those few days. He did think that they could have built something from there, if only Steve wasn’t around.

Jonathan shakes himself out of that particular strain of bitterness. _Giving Steve the benefit of the doubt, remember?_

It was a stupid idea anyway, someone like Nancy being in love with someone like Jonathan. Maybe the thing they build off of their monster-hunting partnership is just a friendship. Maybe he and Steve can even be...acquaintances, if they just ignore everything like they have been so far. Maybe fighting a monster is just one of those shared experiences that inexplicably bonds people together.

_It might be nice to not always be alone._

“All done,” Nancy says. Jonathan realizes he’s been staring at her during his internal struggle as she wrapped his hand. _Maybe if Nancy and Steve are around more often I’ll learn how to actually talk to them instead of just_ staring _the entire time, Jesus Christ._

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. 

“You’re welcome,” she says. Her smile lights up the darkroom. And yeah, if Jonathan gets to see that smile, he can be happy with being friends with Nancy Wheeler.

A muffled trill comes through the walls: the bell signalling the end of lunch. Jonathan moves to clean up his workspace, gently unclipping his dry photographs and placing them into his protective case in his backpack. He sees _The Great Gatsby_ in there and remembers: he has English next. _I guess this was the peak of my day, then._

“Where are you going?”

He turns back around. Nancy’s smile is gone. _Yeah, peak over._

“...English?”

“Did the bell ring?” Steve says, looking up and around him like he would be able to see the noise. 

“Yeah.” Jonathan manages to stop himself from laughing at Steve, but only just. 

“Oh,” Nancy sighs.

“How can you hear anything in here?” Steve looks at Jonathan like his ability to hear a bell that rings at the same time every day is an impressive talent. 

Jonathan turns away from his stare before he starts freezing up again and walks to the door. 

“Guess I’m just used to it in here.” 

He opens the door to the darkroom, leaning against it to keep it open, waiting for Steve and Nancy. He doesn’t necessarily want lunch to end, but he kind of needs this experience to be over so he can figure out what it even is, what it means, what Nancy and Steve _mean._

“We gotta get you out more, Byers,” Steve says as he passes over the threshold. _What does that MEAN?_

“We should all do something this weekend.” Nancy blinks rapidly in the bright hallway lights after exiting the darkroom. “Like go to the diner downtown.”

“Milkshakes?” Steve suggests.

“You want to get milkshakes in _January_?” Jonathan closes the door firmly and turns to look at Steve disbelievingly. 

“Milkshakes taste good year-round,” Steve shrugs and meets Jonathan’s gaze head-on, “ _especially_ the ones at the diner.”

“We can get fries too! And burgers, and whatever else,” Nancy cuts in with a step in between them, like she thinks Jonathan and Steve are going to start physically fighting over something as meaningless as when it is socially acceptable to eat certain foods. Jonathan can’t exactly blame her, considering their history, but _come on, we were doing pretty well...I think_ …

Jonathan smiles to reassure her that he’s not about to cause a scene at school. Another one. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great!” Nancy breathes out, relieved. _She definitely thought we were about to fight_.

They stand there in front of the door, the noise of people shuffling to class and banging their lockers a loud contrast to the muted ambiance of the darkroom. After diving into his photographs and forgetting the real world for a while, Jonathan has to take a second to adjust, even after months of lunches spent inside. Jonathan can feel everyone’s eyes on him, but that’s a much more familiar sensation; he learned to ignore the stares as much as he ignores the people giving them long before he picked up a camera. Then he realizes that people aren’t looking just at him, but at him, Nancy, and Steve, all together. Everyone in the hallway, in fact, is looking between the three of them before turning to someone else to discuss whatever latest development in the current big stupid gossipy scandal of Hawkins High School they think this is. Some are even slowing down as they pass, like the three of them are a car crash on the side of the road. _Nancy isn’t the only one who thinks we might fight, apparently._

Jonathan keeps his face neutral like always and looks back to Nancy and Steve to see if they’ve noticed, how they’re reacting. They’re used to stares and gossip of a different kind: fascinated and admiring and envious and idolizing. They’re not used to Jonathan’s version on the other end of the social spectrum. He can’t help the warmth in his chest when he sees Nancy taking it in typical Nancy Wheeler fashion, glaring at everyone who makes eye contact with her, daring them to say something to her face instead of whispering behind her back. Steve, on the other hand, is looking up and down the hall with trepidation, obviously uncomfortable with all of the negative attention. Jonathan suppresses an eyeroll: _Can’t take a taste of your own medicine, Steve?_

Then Steve looks at Nancy, who is standing up taller and taller as the seconds pass, like _she’s_ about to start a fight. Steve glances back at the crowd, then at Jonathan, then puts his arm around Nancy to turn her back towards the two of them. 

“Well, time for you to get to smart people class!” Steve says to Nancy with the same air of carefreeness he always has, like he hasn’t even noticed there are other people around. _Hm._ He tilts his chin up in Jonathan’s direction with a casual, “Later Byers.” Jonathan doesn’t replicate the cool-guy nod—doesn’t have the social capacity left to even try—giving Steve a cursory close-lipped smile in return. 

“Bye Jonathan.” Nancy smiles at him one last time before walking down the hall with Steve.

Jonathan watches them walk away, Nancy’s head on Steve’s shoulder and her hair falling down both their backs. He takes a deep breath in. It feels like the first oxygen he’s gotten in the last twenty-five minutes. He forces himself to walk to English, purposefully slow—to put off going to English class, but also to process everything that just happened. As he begins, he remembers the last thing first, and realizes:

  
_Fuck...I just agreed to third wheel_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was sufficient. I have a lot of mid-semester projects this week but then I should have a little time to finish up the next chapter, where we'll get some plot juice...and maybe some relationship juice, who knows! Not me, I haven't written it yet.
> 
> Also, thank you for the kudos/comments!!!!! Every time I got stressed about writing--which I did not like because this is supposed to be a stress-relief fun project to escape from the mandatory parts of my life--I thought about the people that already read this and thought about all of the times I wanted a fic to update but it never did and it inspired (or at least pressured me in the best way possible) to do more with my little free time than watch The Untamed lol. Stay healthy, and see you soon :~)

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @beachpunksummer, I just got it (after deleting my tumblr so if you want to share it on there go ahead bc I can't lmao) and need people to interact with. I'll tweet out updates on this fic too prob bc why tf not. it's 2020, I'm owning myself in the new decade starting with writing a fic I've been writing in my head for months.


End file.
